Hermione Granger's Diary
by Len
Summary: A Fifth Year fic: The smartest witch of her year gets it in writing... (Chapter 4 is up!)
1. Resolutions

  
A Fic by Len  
  
Rating: PG-13 at worst  
  
Pairing: You may notice a slight tendency in Hermione to dwell on a certain red haired boy – I'll leave the conclusions up to you.  Possible Harry/Ginny.   
  
Spoilers: Through 'Goblet of Fire'  
  
Disclaimer: These characters belong to JK Rowling, the writing style is an attempt to copy Helen Fieldings, and the only thing I own are the fingers that typed this.  Blame Mr Bimble.  
  
Notes: Inspired by that unbelievably clever poster spoof which you can find here:  http://www.wassu.com/giverius/nuyear/index.htm

More notes:  Dear God, you say, not another DIARY FIC!!  I say: as long as I can make you chuckle, my job here is done.  Review and make me a happy little diarist!!  

  
   
  
  
  
Hermione Granger's Diary  
  
Occurring Through 5th Year  
  
  
  
Resolutions for this School Year:

  
I Will  
  
  
Complete trial O.W.L.S. exams at least once a week.  
  
  
  
Control temper while around Ron.  
  
  
  
Stop reading silly teenage witch novels after lights-out and begin stringent campaign of self-betterment through Wizard Classics.  
  
  
  
Learn to accept and appreciate hair in all its bushiness as step towards achieving greater confidence in physical appearance.  
  
  
  
Show more charity towards students less academically inclined.  
  
  
  
Start tailoring diet so as not to in any way resemble Millicent Bullstrode by Year 6.  
  
  
  
Stop wasting pocket money on Frizzy Friller's Self-Hatching Chocolate Eggs.  
  
  
  
Stop eating Frizzy Friller's Self-Hatching Chocolate Eggs.  
  
  
  
Stop obsessively collecting prizes that hatch from Frizzy Friller's  
Self-Hatching Chocolate Eggs.  
  
  
  
Will finally arrange current collection of chocolate egg prizes in  
easy-to-reference alphabetical order by collection name (i.e. Peruvian  
Pipsqueaks, Popular Dances of the Genii, and so forth), and let out for air and sun at least 1 a week.  
  
  
  
Will become more relaxed and easy, witty conversationalist.  
  
  
  
Accept contradiction gracefully while holding spirited *meaningful*  
discussions with Ron and not resort to pointless bickering.  
  
  
I Will Not  
  


Waste money on miracle hair products, since results fail to grab attention of…anyone.  
  
  
  
Dwell on physical appearance.  
  
  
  
Get crushes on boys - far too time-consuming and distracting when time is better used for studying for O.W.L.S.  
  
  
  
Get annoyed w/ other students for not being as academically concerned as self.  
  
  
  
Become annoyed w/ Lavender and Parvati's conversational topics – listen  
instead, contribute helpful hints and become agreeable, relaxed roommate.  
  
  
  
Fight with Ron.  
  
  
  
Ignore Ron, unless deserved.  
  
  
  
Sneak Owl Lollies to Pigwidgeon, since already hyperactive, and not *really* that funny to see owl dive at all students w/ orange hair.  
  
  
  
Believe Harry when he says everything is *fine*.  
  
  
  
Accept anything given to me by a Weasley twin.  
  
  
  
Ingest anything w/ *slightest* possibility of coming from a Weasley twin.  
  
  
  
And above all, will absolutely, positively not allow thoughts to dwell on following:  
  
Possibility of painful death, You-Know-Who, D. Malfoy's insults, lack of summer vacation, Bulgaria, Quiddich, chocolate frogs, maroon sweaters, chess games, red hair, crooked smile, Divinations or blue eyes.  
  
  
  
Oh, God. Am starting already. Is going to be an *_unbearable_* year.  
  


  
TBC...  
  
  
  


Review!  Review!


	2. Monday 3 September

Disclaimers, notes, ratings: see part one.

A/N:  Thanks _so much_ for all the feedback, guys – that's the best response I've ever gotten for a single chapter!  You're all wonderful – I hope this lives up to your expectations.

Self-Hatching Chocolate Eggs go out to my Beta – the marvelously brilliant Courtney.  Thanks, Chica – I owe you!

~August~  
A Dreadful Beginning  
  
  
Monday 28 August~  
  
_Hair bushiness (on scale of 0 – 10): 5 (blech).  School assignments completed: 2.  Hours spent on study: 4 (fair).  Chocolate eggs consumed: 2 (but they were gifts, so would have been rude to refuse).  Number of times tempted to hit Ron over head with `Hogwarts – a History': 12._  
  
  
**11 am**: Ugh.  Classes arranged this semester so that I have a brief break before lunch.  Should be reviewing `Wizarding Wonders of the 5th Century' for History of Magic, but I'd rather hide.  Harry and Ron are behaving abominably.  Actually, Harry's not so bad – he just wanders around, looking rather lost next to that long redheaded streak (Ron has gotten quite a bit taller over the summer, if that were even possible).  I wonder if he is being reminded of Cedric and You-Know-Who, now that he is back at Hogwarts. I tried to talk to him about it, but of course he said, "I'm fine," and then became completely absorbed in mending his quill nub.  It's so annoying.  And Ron – he's the real problem.  Every time I look up lately he's watching me.  It's very unsettling, that look.  Like I'm sort of a chess problem he's trying to work out.  Have the terrible feeling he's plotting something.  I asked him about it, and he nearly bit my head off.  
  


  
"Stop it!"  
  


  
He blinked as if against a bright light.  "Er – what?"  
  


  
"Looking at me! What – do I have something in my hair?"  
  


  
"What on Earth are you talking about, Hermione?" he asked a bit grumpily.  He did, however, seem to wince when I mentioned my hair.  Oh dear.  
  


  
"Since the station yesterday – you've been watching me. You'd better not be up to anything, Ron Weasley, or I'll—"  
  


  
His face tuned red with anger.  "I'm not up to anything.  I don't know what you're talking about.  Now, if you don't *_mind_*, I'm trying to listen to Professor Binns."  
  


  
Which is ridiculous because he's never listened to a word Profession Binns has said in his entire Hogwarts career.  
  


  
Ugh.  Will ignore Ron for the rest of the day.  Annoying prat.  
  
  
  
  
**3 pm**: Neville has given me belated birthday present, during Herbology.  I think that class might just make him a bit bolder than usual - but he still blushed quite a bit.  
  


  
"Hermione!"  
  


  
I started and nearly fell off my stool.  Neville stood next to me, shuffling his feet and looking nervous.  
  


  
"Yes, Neville?"  
  


  
"I…erm…I forgot to give you your birthday present earlier.  Um…here," he said quickly, thrusting a small, brightly wrapped package into my hands.   
  


  
Next to me, Harry and Ron stopped talking.  
  


  
"Oh…oh, well…thanks.  That's very sweet of you to remember, Neville," I replied.   
  


  
Ron looked over the top of Harry's head to my end of the bench.  "What did you get her, Neville?" he asked curiously – the great interfering twit.  
  


  
Neville blushed pink all the way across his chubby face, and looked intently at his feet.  Curious as well (well, who wouldn't be? And I *_adore_* prezzies, after all!), I tore open the wrapping paper.   
  


  
"Wicked!" Ron offered, "Frizzy Friller's Self-Hatching Chocolate Eggs!"  
  


  
I shot a glare at him, and he suddenly remembered that we were not presently on speaking terms.  Harry piped in with, "Good call, Neville – Hermione loves those!"  
  


  
Oh, hoo-*_rah_*.  "Yeah…this is marvelous, Neville. Thank you."  
  


  
He nodded bashfully, muttered a `Happy Birthday', and went back to his workbench.  I gazed on the two chocolate eggs in dismay.  Oh dear.  First day back in school, and already I'm contemplating breaking my resolutions.  That simply *_will not_* do. I'll have to save them – maybe give them to roommates as expression of goodwill?  
  
  
  
  
**8 pm**: Sod the roommates.  Have eaten both chocolate eggs in fit of self-pity.  Friends are uncaring and mean.  After a miserable day spent ignoring *_him_*, decided to retire to the Common Room for some study, conversation, and maybe a good chess match.  
  


  
He didn't ask me.  He didn't even *_ask_*.  And *_I_* certainly wasn't going to bend over backwards to make things easy for him, so I turned to Harry for help.   
  


  
Harry looked between the two of us.  Ron was very studiously avoiding our gaze, and was instead wiping imaginary dust from his chessboard. Harry shrugged helplessly.  
  


  
Fine.  Ron can just go ahead and be that way. See if I care!  
  


  
It wasn't as if I was feeling teary because of him, anyway.  It was just I was absolutely exhausted all of a sudden – it *_is_* the first day of classes, after all.  And I didn't run out of the Common Room because I was upset, either.  I just don't see any use in lollygagging when you've a specific destination in mind.   
  


  
When I got up to my room, the two chocolate eggs were resting temptingly in their bright foil wrappers.  They looked very cozy tucked in the jumper Mrs. Weasley had made me last year.  As everybody knows, Self-Hatching Eggs need a nice warm environment to hatch in or else they'll sour.  Through experimentation I've discovered that Weasley jumpers are capable of producing exactly the temperature required.  
  


  
After a great deal of shaking, the first one burst open and a tiny model of Padraig Moondust serenaded me with a high-pitched rendition of `Happy Birthday'.  Wonderful luck - Padraig Moondust is the last singer I needed to complete my collection of Wizard Musicians of the 1970's.  How incredibly thoughtful of Neville to get it for me (though, I suppose, it was more luck than anything else on his part, as well)!  Much more thoughtful than *_some_* people I could mention.  
  


  
Second egg hatched as well.  A white knight on an armored war-horse trotted onto the bed, looking annoyingly perky.  The knight flipped up his visor and gave me cheerful miniature smile.  This, of course, made me burst into tears *_again_*.  I sniffled a bit and popped a piece of the chocolate eggshell in my mouth.  And another.  Then pulled paperback copy of 'Enchanted Rendezvous' out from under my mattress – the passionately embracing couple on the cover looked at me curiously and then went back to snogging.   
  


  
Stupid, horrible day.   
  


  
Oh – look. There's one more piece of chocolate.   
  


  
Well, perhaps things will look better tomorrow.  
  
  
  


 TBC…

Review?


	3. Tuesday 4 September

For notes, disclaimers, see part one.

A/N:  Thanks to PepsiAngel for pointing out timeline problems – I never noticed that!  Definitely a "duh" moment!  I've tweaked it a bit now.

Thanks:  To all the people who have reviewed so far – especially those (you know who you are!) who've reviewed more than just *one* story of mine.  You're all wonderful! I'm really surprised by the response this story has gotten!

Chocolate Self-Hatching Eggs and a very special Ron-Smile go out to Courtney, the beta-bomb and resident Priestess of Racy Innuendos.  Not only was she able to control my insane urge to write in lower case, but she was able to spot a surprising number of innuendos.  See how many *you* can spot!

Tuesday 4th September~  
  
_Hair bushiness (on scale of 0 – 10): 3. School assignments __  
completed: 3. Hours spent on study: 5 (g). Chocolate eggs consumed:   
0 (excellent!). Current tally of highly suspicious DADA professors:   
4.  
_  
  
  
**7:57 am**: Ugh. Overslept. Missed breakfast. Must shower. Feel like a Bundimun's armpit.  
  
  


  
  
**7:58 am**: Oh no oh no oh no oh no! No time! Class! Must get to class! Ack!  
  
  


  
  
**11:14 am**: Horrible - new Defense Against the Dark Arts instructor thinks I am procrastinating half-wit. Can't believe I over-slept. Must have been the chocolate before bed. How many times have I lectured the boys about sweets before bed? Should follow own advice.  
  


  
Woke up still fully dressed with silly romance novel open over my face. Snogging couple on cover were snoring in each other's arms, and I realized with a start that that was the only snoring I could hear.  
  


  
"Lavender?" I called out, and flung open the drapes around my bed. "Parvati?"  
  


  
There was no answer. There were no roommates. Then I noticed that alarm clock - which sat slumped on my nightstand - read 7:55. The clock looked exhausted. Probably had been trying to wake me for hours, poor thing. Must talk to Harry and Ron about inherent cruelty of magical alarm clocks.  
  


  
Briefly debated merits of changing clothes and brushing hair, teeth. The clock ticked over to 7:59 am, and decided that bed head wouldn't look any different from normal bushiness. In fact, bushiness decreases with lack of brushing (3!).  
  


  
Should consider never brushing hair again, instead joining a Mediterranean Reggae band. Would do wonders for appearance.  
  


Would scandalize parents. Hmm.  
  


  
Five minutes later, quite out of breath, I burst into the DADA classroom. I'd performed an anti-wrinkling charm on the way, but as I had been running, the charm's results (and my school robes) were a bit spotty. Tried to sneak in through the door at the back of the classroom, but of course, a draft from the hall caught it and flung it into the opposite wall. Everyone turned to stare. Professor Putnam looked up from his desk. I may have squeaked in horror, as Putnam is even more horrid-looking up close than he had been at Sorting Ceremony. Face like blob of gray sealing wax. Rumor is he had a run-in with a Chimaera, years ago.  
  


  
Ron says he looks like something his pet Puffskein coughed up once.   
  


  
Ron can be very disgusting at times.   
  


  
"Sorry I'm late, sir," I gasped out. Putnam raised one scraggily eyebrow.  
  


  
"Oh? And who might you be?"  
  


  
"Hermione Granger, sir."  
  


  
He shuffled arthritically closer. "Well, Hermione Granger, you can make reparations for your tardiness by explaining to the class what the best approach to repelling an Expelliarmus charm."  
  


  
Hmm. This hadn't been in the book. And if it hadn't been in the book – *any* book… "With due respect, sir, I don't think it's possible to repel an Expelliarmus charm. It's a defensive charm – harmless."  
  


  
"Wrong, Miss Granger. It's hardly harmless if it leaves you defenseless, is it?"  
  


  
It took me a moment to sort out what he had said. A few students tittered. "N-no, sir."  
  


  
"Well then. Perhaps in the future a more timely arrival will be in order."  
  


  
"Y-yes, sir."  
  


  
"Find your seat and be quick about it. Five points from Gryffindor for your lack of preparation."  
  


  
I did so, carefully avoiding the eyes of fellow Gryffindors. Simply can't *_believe_* it! Professor Putnam is older, misshapen Snape!  
  


  
The rest of the class went as well as could be expected – with Harry looking at me as if he were afraid I would burst into tears. And Ron, of course, muttering things that would shock his mother, and were (I think) anatomically impossible anyway.  
  


  
"I wish Lupin would come back. This Putnam is a right royal –"   
  


  
I can't write what he said in case *my* mother ever finds this diary.  
  


  
"Ron!" I chided.  
  


  
He grinned cheekily, and then turned his attention back to the lesson. On his other side, Harry snickered and pushed a scrap of parchment across the table to me. He had drawn a rather rude picture of Putnam doing exactly what Ron had described earlier. I think he was trying to make me feel better.  
  


  
I appreciated the gesture. I really do have the best friends *ever*.  
  
  


  
  
**3:14 pm**: Classes over for the day. Thank goodness. Last class was Potions with Snape. Have feeling I will learn to *_despise_* Tuesdays and Thursdays. Even Arithmancy is not enough to make combination of Defense Against Dark Arts and Potions less miserable.   
  


  
Did learn interesting potion used to detect danger. Called `Denunciation Potion', rather difficult to make, and smells dreadful. It used nearly all of my supply of caterpillar hearts. It's supposed to give forewarning when the drinker is in the presence of a person who wishes harm by making them turn blue.   
  


  
Harry snorted a bit loudly at this. Snape glared, and went back to lecturing. Harry leaned across the table. "I've found blinding and debilitating pain is pretty effective, as well," he whispered to us. Ron chuckled.  
  


  
I didn't. I know I worry too much, but I just can't help it. It was just another reminder of what *_could_* happen. I don't want to think about it.   
  
  


  
  
**9:27 pm:** Sitting reading by Common Room fire, reading new O.W.L.s handbook – *`_More Than You Ever Wanted To Know About Your Upcoming Ordinary Wizarding Level Exams'_* by R. T. Redundas. V. interesting – have learned a few useful hints and approaches to studying. Must tell Harry, and Ron, and maybe Neville. I'm sure they'd be-----   
  
  
  


  
**10:03 pm**: Huh. Ron just did incredible thing. Plopped down beside me, took book, closed it, and then gave me an absolutely staggering smile.   
  


  
Should not be staggered by best friends' smile. V. idiotic and just asking for embarrassment. Have decided that unfortunately timed crush on said best friend is nothing more than hormones (mum gave me "The Talk" last summer – I know *_all_* about hormones and their debilitating effects), and proximity. Ron is always *_there_*, so of course I should develop strange fixation on him rather than, say, Ernie Macmillan.  
  


  
Besides, Ernie Macmillan can't smile half so well as…augh! Must stop this nonsense!  
  


  
Where was I? Oh, yes.   
  


  
Ron. He apologized. That is worthy of a diary entry in itself. Usually, after one of our rows, we call a truce more than we actually say, "I'm sorry". I think this is because I have horrible tendency to cry when apologizing, and this alarms those around me. I *_had_* thought that today's policy of non-ignoring was enough of a truce, but Ron must have wanted to clear the air.  
  


  
"I'm sorry, Hermione," he said.  
  


  
I blinked. "I beg your pardon?"  
  


  
"For yesterday. I didn't mean to………y'know………make you angry."  
  


  
The novelty of an apology was making me imagine absolutely ridiculous things. I ignored the fluttery feeling and tried to be casual. "Yes, well – staring usually *_is_* quite annoying, Ron."  
  


  
He took a deep breath as if to keep his temper, and continued. "I *_wasn't_* staring at you. It was just – you know, when you're thinking hard and you have to look at something while you do it? What am I saying – you do it all the time." He laughed, and I had the terrible feeling I knew what he was going to say next. "I mean, half the time you're staring at *_me_* while you're using that enormous brain of yours!"  
  


  
Yes, that's what I was afraid he was going to say.  
  


  
I blushed horribly, but nodded. "Oh – er, of course. No worries. I do it all the time. So…uh…there wasn't anything wrong with my hair, then?"  
  


  
I didn't mean to say *_that_* either. What is *_wrong_* with me??? Who cares about my hair??? Why can't I stop obsessing over superficial things such as appearance???  
  


  
Ron looked a bit puzzled. "Your hair? No – your hair looked nice." Then he smirked a bit and tugged on a curl. "But what's up with it today? It's not looking very………perky. You're not getting sick, are you?"  
  


  
Oh, Merlin. Leave it to Ron – usually the most clueless idiot in school – to notice me when I haven't brushed my hair. Augh.  
  


  
But he *_did_* apologize. Must put big `star' next to today. For posterity. Or so I can look back on today and gloat gently to self.  
  


  
Anyway – must get to bed. Long day tomorrow.  
  
  


  
  
  
TBC...  
  
  


  
  
Review?


	4. Friday 7 September

Hermione Granger's Diary

Chapter Four

By: Len (lendolyn@yahoo.com)

Rated: PG-13

Spoilers:  Up through GoF.

Pairing: RW/HG, very minor HP/Gin

Disclaimer:  Characters you recognize aren't mine – they are JK Rowling's creation.  Those you don't recognize probably *are* mine, but honestly, who cares?  Also – does this sound kind of like 'Bridget Jones' Diary'?  It should!  And that wonderful book and its stylings all belong to Helen Fieldings.  

Archive:  FF.net, G-W, the Haven, and the spiffy new site Penumbra ().  But if you'd like it, that's totally cool.  Just let me know where!

Dedication: For the hoopiest frood I know – thanks for everything, Kendra A. (sniffs prettily in dramatic Oscar Night-ish way)!!!

Mui Gracias: To Jen for the beta and invaluable help with grammar and BritSpeak in this chapter, and Courtney for taking the dubious job of beta-ing this monster permanently.  Crazy globe-trotting kid.

Notes:  I know!  It's been almost a year since Lackadaisical Me © first posted this story, and I hope there are still interested people out there!  In any case, thanks for the overwhelming feedback and support – it's wonderful!  Frizzy Frillers all around!

So.  On with the story!!

Friday 7 September~

Hair bushiness (on scale of 0 – 10): 6.  School assignments completed: 1 (v. bad!).  Hours spent on study: 2.  Chocolate eggs consumed: 2 (for medicinal purposes only).  Number of times certain best friend was going to be sick in front of entire school: 26.  Number of times certain self was going to be sick in front of entire school: 1.

**6:43 am**: Marvelous day!  Autumn is in the air, the week is coming to a close, and tomorrow is the Fifth Year's trip to Hogsmeade.  Good thing, as was so distracted in Diagon Alley while shopping for school supplies that forgot to buy extra box of quills.  Have already lent all mine out.  Honestly – students should be better prepared.  However, should not allow classmates to fall behind in studies because of own quill-selfishness.

Lavender just rolled out of bed.  Must get to bathroom before mirrors become caked in hair potions and badly-aimed face powder.

**7:30 am**:  Quidditch tryouts today.  I'd forgotten this until I got down to breakfast, and found Ron staring at food like it was his pet Puffskein scrambled on a piece of toast.  "Ron?"  I asked.  He slowly raised his head and looked at me dully.

   "Yeah?"

   "You're green."

   At those words, the green tinge of his face became a slightly more glowing shade.  He swallowed hard.  "Thanks, Hermione."

   Oops.

   "He's a little scared about try-outs," Harry explained.   

   "I'm not *scared*.  I'm a bit nervous, s'all," Ron argued.

   I blinked.  "Oh.  Oh? That's today, is it?  I'd forgotten."

   "You forgot?" Ron asked in disbelief.  "How could you forget?  It's all anyone's been talking about for the past week!  The entire school has gone mental with it!  McGonagall actually threw a turtle at me Wednesday in Transfigurations, without warning, just to see if I could catch it!  We get a new captain and a new chaser and a new – a new – new –" he trailed off, sputtering.

   "Keeper," Harry added helpfully.  Ron looked as if he was going to be sick all over the table, and a couple of second-year girls seated next to him quickly scooted further down the bench.

   I tried to look cheerful for him.  "*Relax*, Ron!  I'm sure you'll be wonderful at it.  You'll definitely get Keeper."

  He gave me a wobbly smile.  "Yeah?"

   "Of course!"  I said.  "And even if you don't – it's not the end of the world, after all.  There's more to life than Quidditch."

   Ron shoved his plate away, and quickly excused himself.  He nearly ran out of the hall.  I stared after him, puzzled.  "Did I say something wrong?"  I wondered.

   Harry looked at me oddly and shook his head.  "I have no idea."

**7:53 pm:**  Ugh.  Just had unpleasant confrontation with Draco Malfoy.  Was talking with Parvati and Lavender outside Transfiguration classroom when Malfoy rounded corner and collided with us.  Dropped all of my books on Lavender's foot, and was too distracted by her shout of pain to give Slimy Ferret Boy a good telling off.

Once I had retrieved my books again and Lav (leaning heavily on Parvati and whimpering – honestly, _Hogwarts: A History_; _Temples, Tombs and Curses_; and _Fantastic Beasts & Where to Find Them_ aren't _that_ heavy.  Think roommate's limping was shameless attempt to get excused from classes) had headed off towards the infirmary, I was somewhat startled to realize Malfoy was still there.  Apparently he had something pressing on his mind he wanted to discuss.

"I heard your pauper boyfriend is trying out for Keeper today, Granger," he started, sneering in an irritating manner.  Briefly considered merits of kicking him in shin and going into classroom, but figured action would surely land me in detention, or earn me a disappointed look from Professor McGonagall, which is _worse_.

Instead settled for raising eyebrows and looking superiorly intelligent.

"With him as Keeper, it'll be almost too easy for Slytherin to win the House Cup this year.  *_I*_ prefer a challenge.  But I suppose it's Gryffindor's fault for letting not one but *_three*_ Weasleys on their team.  There's not one thing on Earth that they've touched that hasn't gone to rubbish."

Kicking shins suddenly became far more appealing.  "Oh, remind me again, Malfoy – how many times did you miss the snitch *_last_* season?" I asked through fake smile.  A blush – which on some people is v. endearing, but on Malfoy merely horrid – covered his pointy face.      

"Listen, you ugly, big-haired, *_nothing*_: I'm going to give you some advice," he spat out.

"Don't strain yourself," I advised.

He moved in far too close for my liking, and sneered down.  "You'd do better to watch what you say, Mudblood, and who you say it to.  If the Dark Lord is back, who do you think is going to be at the top of his list?"

I pressed my lips together, trying to appear unaffected.  V. nearly impossible – I have a fair idea of how much danger we're all in – all of Hogwarts – but am certain that's not nearly equal to the danger "uppity" Muggle-borns are in.  I *_know*_ Gryffindors are supposed to be brave, but knowing it is far different from actually *_being*_ it…and being targeted by You-Know-Who because of who my parents are almost scares me witless.  Malfoy must have seen how utterly *_sick*_ the implication made me, as he smirked quite evilly, and moved even further into personal space…

…only to be shoved abruptly into wall by a large, freckled hand.  

After regaining his breath, Malfoy glared at Ron.  "No need to get territorial, Weasley.  I wouldn't touch your girlfriend if she were the last woman on Earth."

My inner-woman took a moment to do little dance of joy.

Meanwhile, Ron returned Malfoy's glare with interest.  Malfoy seemed to lose one or two vertebrae worth of backbone before my very eyes.

"Why don't you go crawl back under your rock, ferret-face?" Ron growled.

Unfortunately, Malfoy was not intimidated enough to stop talking.  "Why are you even here, Weasley?  I thought for sure you'd be busy charming your broom so that it actually stays in the air this afternoon."

Ron looked as if he rather wanted to knock Malfoy over again, so I grabbed onto his arm.  And then stood on his left foot.  "Why don't you leave, Malfoy," I said.  He stood up straight, dusting his robes off.

"Fine.  I was only wondering what on Earth you're going to do with yourself if both Weasley *_and*_ Potter are in training, Granger."  He tisked in ridiculous villainous manner.  "I'd hate to think of you all alone…and these days, that *_really*_ can't be safe…"

The arm under my hand tensed even further.  "Bugger off, Malfoy."

Malfoy did.

"I hate him," Ron said a few moments later.  "I honestly do.  Hermione, you can get off me now."

And *_of course*_, that would be the point where Harry pops up.  "What are you doing on Ron?" he asked, blinking innocently. 

"Draco Malfoy," I said simply.

His face lost all traces of amusement.  "You all right?"

We both nodded, Ron more slowly than myself, then headed into Transfiguration classroom.  I had a few pieces of the chocolate egg I found in my pocket, and felt much better.  

**11 am**:  As it's Friday, we have short day of classes today.  Just got out of History of Magic.  Class so dull *_I*_ nearly fell asleep.  Settled instead on taking copious notes to avoid falling into boredom-induced stupor.  Professor Binns has been lecturing on Spells of Ancient Mongolia.  Should pay close attention, as Mongolia was one of the "Cradles of Magical Civilization" (according to Professor Binns), but have no real interest in ancient history.   I mean, it's all well and good because the ancients got us to where we are now…but they were all so frightfully dull.  The highlights of each seem to be some horrible war or assassination that brought about a need for new magic.  Ugh.  Much prefer Arithmancy and its lovely, bright, shiny newness.  

However, it's nice to know that if I ever need to know the origins of the Raucously Rank Sonnet Spell – a spell which can produce poetry so horrendously bad it is capable of knocking a fully-grown man off his horse – while I'm, say, being chased by You-Know-Who….I now do.

Although it may be a null point, because Harry and Ron found the idea of deadly poetry so outrageously funny, I have sinking feeling they'll learn it solely for entertainment value.  Oh dear.  Feel as though I should warn somebody…but will settle for telling Ginny Weasley.  

As she says, us girls must stick together.  Everyone else is on their own.  And, as Dad would say, God help them.

For now, must get out to Quidditch pitch.  Promised the boys I'd watch tryouts.

**1:24 pm:  **Am in shock.  Must find Harry and Ron.  

**1:30 pm: **Asked Ginny if she'd seen her brother.  She hasn't.

**1:45 pm:**  Nearly run over by Griffyndor Quidditch Team.  None of them have seen Ron either, although Katie Bell reckons she saw Harry take off towards Hagrid's hut.  

Fred and George still seemed stunned.  "I don't know what's bloody wrong with him," Fred said.

George nodded in dazed manner.  "He was brilliant this summer.  Maybe he's sick?"

"Maybe he's dying?"

"Maybe he *_was*_ dead?"

"Maybe he was hexed?"

"Or concussed?"

"Or sleepwalking?"

"Or hung over?"

"Or—"

Left Twins and team mulling over Ron's peculiar behavior.  Am heading to Hagrid's.  Must get to the bottom of this. 

**1:52 pm:**  No sign of Harry or Ron.  Or Hagrid, for that matter, but as Hagrid is presently on secret mission for Dumbledore, suppose latter is not great surprise.  

Am wondering if I should return to Common Room.  Feeling like chicken with head cut off, and am beginning to get stitch in right side.

Must remind self to include physical exercise in new Millicent-Bulstrode-Figure-Avoidance diet.   

**2:03 pm:  **Found Ron and Harry sitting against outer east wall of school.  Conversation stopped abruptly as I rounded the corner – must have interrupted  "man-to-man" talk.

Felt relief at finally finding them, but rather hurt from being completely cut out.  In this slightly over-emotional state I said the first thing that came to mind.

"What are you boys doing out here?  It's out of bounds!"

Ron and Harry frowned and blinked.

"And," I continued, "there's a storm coming in.  You'll catch your death – neither of you are wearing a coat!"

Harry looked down and apparently realized he was still in Quidditch uniform. 

"You're not either, Hermione," Ron pointed out sourly.

Gah.  Things not going according to plan.  Supposed to be supportive friend, not snipping harpy.  I sighed and slid down the wall to sit beside them.  "So…" 

"So," Ron replied.

"How are you, Ron?"  I asked, tentatively.

He shrugged, then sighed.  "Orright," he said.  "Like you said – there's more to life than Quidditch, hey?"

His statement hung in the air, unnatural as a Dungbomb cloud.  Ron?  Suggesting England's National (Magical) Pastime not vital to one's existence?  Could Ron be under some sort of spell?  Or maybe lanky redhead is in fact Polyjuiced spy?!

I looked at him closely, trying to detect any differences in his mannerisms.  Seemed weary rather than upset or depressed.  V. uncharacteristic.  V. odd.

Harry threw his hands up in the air.  "More to life?  Ron?  Are you off your head?  What happened?  You had the Keeper position locked in!"

"Yeah."

"But you missed the Quaffle five times today," Harry pointed out.

"Reckon I'm not as fast as I thought."

"And you dropped it twice."

"My hands were sweaty," Ron said sullenly. 

Harry didn't seem to have an answer to that, so we stared out at the ocean for a bit.  You could hear the waves crashing against the cliffs below.  Finally Harry spoke.

"You know…if I didn't know better…I'd say you deliberately bollocksed-up your try-out."

Ron didn't answer him.

**6:14 pm:  **In Common Room, with Ginny.  

"I reckon I've figured out what the problem is," she announced, dropping into an armchair next to the fire.  I looked up from 'Quidditch Through The Ages' (being re-read for the forth time in vain hope that it could help me understand reasons for odd hold the sport seemed to have over male wizarding population.).  

"Oh?" I said, not having the faintest idea what she was referring to.

"Yeah," she said.  I waited for her to elaborate.  She didn't, and my eyes drifted back down to the book on my lap (setting fire to opponent's broom tail?  I knew sport was barbaric!).

"I'm too girly," Ginny burst out again.  

"Girly?"  Mentally, I attempted to put Ginny Weasley in same ranks as Lavendar Brown, Parvati and Padma Patil, and Pansy Parkinson.  Failed utterly.  "Huh?" I said cleverly. 

"Yeah.  I think Harry finds it intimidating.  After all, look at the girl he's fancied – she's the Ravenclaw seeker, for crying out loud!  So I've decided that the only way he'll ever notice me is if I tone down the girlyness.  Be his friend first.  You know?"

Personally, believed that any plan that didn't include blushing crimson and running away was a step in the right direction.  However, felt this observation would not be helpful under the circumstances.  Instead answered, "Completely."

She grinned.  "So you'll help, then?"

"Er…help?"

"Yeah – I need to get a chance to talk with him alone.  And you know how Ron is with Harry and…and some people – his bloody middle name should be changed to "Mother Hen".  Would you distract him for a little while?  Start a row with him if you have to, just keep him away from me and Harry for at least five minutes?"

Felt obligated to object to the implication that I can only hold Ron's attention if we're screaming at each other.  However, the truth of the statement rather took the wind out of my sails.  

Harry and Ron chose that moment to enter through the portrait hole.  Ginny mouthed 'Thank you' to me, and bounced off to begin Phase One of her plan.  She waylaid Harry by the door.  I waved to Ron.

After casting a confused look at his sister and his best friend, he joined me by the fire.  

"Fancy a game of chess?"  I asked.

He shook his head.  "Nah, no thanks, Hermione.  Not tonight.  I don't reckon I could keep my head in the game right now."

"Why else did you think I suggested it?" I said, smiling.  

Ron laughed.  "I should have guessed."   

"Probably."  We sat silently for a moment.  The pensive look returned to his face as he stared at the flames.  "I *_am*_ sorry about the try-outs, Ron."

He shrugged.  "S'okay.  I've heard that Katie has scheduled practices for five-thirty in the morning, anyway."  He propped his chin up on his hand.  One corner of his mouth turned up.  "'sides – someone's got to keep an eye on you – make sure you don't light any more teacher's robes on fire.  Might as well be me, hey?"

And then he shot me such a *_look*_ – felt like tiny, hyperactive Cornish pixies were zinging around stomach and tickling ribcage.  

Blimey.

~End Chapter 4~


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